On 26 December 1967 Captain
William H. "Bill" Dabney took India Company of the 3rd Battalion, 26th
Marines up to the top of Hill 881South, a regimental outpost about four
miles (7 kilometers) west of the Khe Sanh Combat Base (KSCB). The
enemy, North Vietnamese Army (NVA), activity was rare until 18 January
1968, when a Marine reconnaissance team was ambushed near 881North, 2 kilometers
directly north of 881S. Both hills had been sites of fierce battles
in early 1967, when the 3rd Marine Regiment took heavy casualties seizing
them. 881S had been garrisoned since, but 881N was abandoned because
the shape of the hill and the nature of the terrain around it made it a
poor defensive position. When an India Company platoon sent to recover
gear abandoned by the reconnaissance team again skirmished with the NVA
on the 19th, Captain Dabney requested and received permission to take all
of India on a reconnaissance-in-force to 881N the following day.
Mike Company of the 3rd Battalion, less one platoon, was sent to 881S to
hold it while India was gone. During its attack on the 20th, India
ran head-on into an NVA battalion coming south. The siege of Khe
Sanh had begun.

Returning to 881S, Captain
Dabney, being the senior officer, assumed overall command of both India
and Mike companies. His full complement, with attachments, including
two 81mm mortars, two 106mm recoilless rifles, three 105mm howitzers and
other normal attachments was approximately 400 men, although there were
times when due to casualties and lack of replacements Hill 881S was as
low as 250 Marines and hospital corpsmen (medics.) Between 20 January
and the end of April, Captain Dabney, except for one incident described
later, did not leave his command perched atop that hill. What follows
are his memories of life and death on Hill 881S and how the Super Gaggle
contributed to the survival of his Marines and the accomplishment of their
mission.

Hill 881S

For larger images, click the image or highlighted
narrative

On
and before 21 January 1968, helo resupply of Hill 881S was by 'daisy chain'
(Single sequential helicopters). Loads were staged at KSCB, loaded
internally aboard birds, and brought up to hill. Took a lot of Marines,
both at KSCB and on the hill, to load and offload, so the loading and landing
zones were crowded. On 21 January, we had some lightly wounded priority
medevacs left over from the recon-in-force fight toward 881N the previous
day, and needed some ammo resupply to replenish stocks. This
UH-34(note the tail
pylon is missing) came up with the ammunition, which we offloaded
and then immediately began loading wounded aboard. Bird had been
in zone two or three minutes when a 120mm mortar round impacted within
a few feet of it. Our senior Doc (corpsman), and two of our previously
wounded Marines were now killed in action (KIA). About a dozen others,
including the helicopter crew, were wounded in action (WIA), all seriously.
The UH-34 remained on the hill throughout the siege, on what we referred
to as our "front porch" zone, which faced east towards Khe Sanh.
It coined a phrase used by Marine air crews later in the year, when one
crew inbound to the company position (where another damaged helicopter
was sitting) was overheard by India's radioman asking, "How are we going
to identify the zone when we get there?" The pilot of the accompanying
helo responded, "Just look for the downed helicopter. India always
marks its zones that way!"

Internal loading was obviously not going to work.
Took too long and too many Marines had to be in zone. Starting 22
January, all loads were external, but still staged at KSCB for birds to
pick up. As incoming got more frequent and more accurate down at
base, Marines staging loads, helos picking loads up were at greater risk,
and loads themselves were often damaged by shrapnel while in staging area.
Things did not improve on Hill 881S, for either the aircrews or
the 881S Marines. We'd figured out by then that NVA tended to leave
mortar tubes registered wherever they'd fired last round, so we'd fake
that zone with air panels and smoke, bring bird to hover over it, and listen
for the tube "pop". (Pop from 120mm mortar was pretty loud.)
As soon as we heard it, we'd shift to another zone (we had five) and bring
bird in, usually getting away with it, because it took NVA about 10 seconds
to shift tube to new target, and time-of-flight for round was about 20-25
seconds. This gave us time to get casualties aboard, replacements
offloaded, bird gone, and troops covered before next round came in.

But that only worked for one bird, and we usually needed
several. Shifting zones after each bird was not an option, because
it meant that the helicopter support team (HST), and others had to move
to next zone under fire - not a good idea. Also, zone shifting, although
it could mitigate effect of NVA mortars, did nothing to mitigate anti-aircraft
(AA) fire, which was both constant and came from both sides of hill.
We were told to have troops up in trench lines firing suppressive fires
at all known or suspected AA sites. Again, that didn't work, because
although these fires tended to make AA fire inaccurate and thus helped
birds, 50-100 Marines had to be exposed during helicopter operations and,
given volume and accuracy of mortars, we inevitably took more casualties,
often multiple. That meant, of course, that when we'd finished the
original resupply or medevac, we had to bring in another bird to evacuate
new casualties - sort of a 'snowball' effect, and quickly became an exercise
in futility.

We described the problem we were having to battalion
at KSCB, but "Do the best you can" was about the only answer we got back.
Really wasn't much battalion could do to help. We would, however,
occasionally have a bird downed, which meant that aircrew would spend some
time with us (usually only 'till we set up new zone for chase bird, but
a couple of times they had to remain overnight.) We described, and
they could see, our difficulties with the daisy chain system. Apparently,
it was that feedback, through aircrews to Squadron/Wing, that led to the
implementation of "Super Gaggle" on 24 February 1968. We grunts had
a problem, but you zoomies came up with the solution. It was brilliant!
In first four weeks of battle, you had six birds downed on Hill 881S alone,
along with a bunch of WIA among aircrews (I don't know how many, since
you reported casualties separately), and we lost 100 plus 881S Marines
KIA or WIA getting you in and out. In the seven weeks after Super
Gaggle started, you had zero birds downed (although a few were hit by AA),
and we had perhaps 20 WIA and zero KIA during resupply. Wow!

From our perspective, how did it work? On days
Super Gaggle was due, we'd register all our mortars (we had 8, 2x8 mm and
6x60mm) on known or suspected AA sites and stand by. At about 10
minutes prior to Super Gaggle, we'd get the word and fire all mortars with
white phosphorus (WP) rounds. Four A-4s would then appear, two on
either side of hill, and attack mortar marked sites with Zuni rockets.
Two more would then drop delay cluster bomb units (CBUs) and high-drag
250lb bombs in valleys north and south of hill. The left
image above depicts 250lb high-drag exploding in a gully to our north
about 300 meters out. Two (or four - I don't recall) would then drop
napalm along both sides of hill about 75 - 100 meters out to discourage
NVAs who would lie on their backs and fire up into bellies of bids with
their AK-47s. Got hot when napalm hit, and we prayed a lot, but they
never missed. We'd also have each Marine in the trench line (about
200) heave a grenade as far as he could down hill in front of him to clear
or discourage the same NVA
(Had the advantage here,
we could throw grenades a lot further down the hill than they could throw
them up). Finally, our mortars would fire 4-5 more rounds
of WP at AA sites they were registered on ( to blind them in case
Zunis hadn't gotten them), and then all Marines on hill would take cover.
As we did so, two more A-4s would lay smoke (right
image above) on either side of hill. Super Gaggle prep was an
exciting show, and we'd sometimes have trouble keeping troops, especially
replacements new to the hill, under cover. It was dramatic entertainment
but, given inevitability of incoming mortars, mortally dangerous to forsake
cover to watch. So much noise we could not hear 'tube pops.'
Company gunny would patrol trench lines keeping troops down.

As
soon as smoke was laid, the Purple Foxes would
appear with external loads brought from Dong Ha, ten birds in two strings
of five, just above smoke. They'd fly parallel to hill, usually to south
since wind was usually from north. They appeared to us to do a "Right
Flank, March", come in to five zones on hill, release loads, and beat feet.
Second echelon of five would do likewise, but it was dicier, because by
then smoke from north would be blowing over hill and visibility would be
severely restricted. Since all zones were on a line only 200 meters
long, birds were damn close together. How they avoided colliding,
I don't know, but they never did. One bird in second echelon would
be designated to land in a zone we'd have ready, would drop off mail, replacement
Marines and pick up any casualties. NVA would always fire mortars,
but their forward observers (FOs) were blinded by smoke, so fire was generally
ineffective except when an occasional round would land in some trooper's
hole. Nothing we could do about that, except pray. AA fire
was constant and sometimes heavy, but, like mortars, gunners were firing
blind through smoke. They'd occasionally get lucky and wing a bird,
but they never brought one down on hill during Super Gaggle.

Whole idea of operations described was to suppress,
inhibit and blind NVA gunners for about two minutes, without exposing our
troops on the ground, so birds could deliver, pick up, get out. What
amazed us was that it always worked, even the first time we did it.
My guess, based on knowledge of Hill 881S casualties both before and after
Super Gaggle, is that it saved 150-200 casualties and perhaps half a dozen
birds. Planning, coordination, airmanship were all flat out MAGNIFICENT!
Whoever came up with it rated Navy Cross, at least.

On a later tour in '70 - '71, I was involved in Lam
Son 719, a corps-sized thrust from Khe Sanh into Laos by four South Vietnamese
divisions. U.S. Army advisors planned operation, U.S. air, artillery
and logistics supported it. Eleven fire support bases (FSB) were
set up between Vietnam border and objective (town of Tcheponne on Ho Chi
Minh Trail) twenty miles inside Laos. NVA surrounded the FSBs as
they had 881S in 1968, one by one. U.S. Army/Air Force could not
resupply them. Several were overrun and South Viets coming back into
Vietnam were hanging from the skids of helicopters. Many others,
perhaps hundreds, died when helo crew chiefs had to kick them off skids
so helo could be air worthy (not overloaded). It was an utter catastrophe
for the South Vietnamese, one that could have been avoided if Army/Air
Force had used "Super Gaggle" techniques perfected by Marine Air Wing two
years before at Khe Sanh. Personally, I doubt that Army/Air Force
of that day, or any other combination of forces in the world, was even
capable of the superb coordination that was a daily feature of the "Super
Gaggle." From my limited perspective, the Marine Air/Ground team
was, and remains, unique!

We still needed single bird missions now and then,
usually for medevac, but we got fairly good at outguessing NVA enough so
we could get one bird in and out without incident. Since
all resupplies were now made externally, we would also have to bring a
bird up to retrieve the nets and slings so they could be used again.
There weren't enough in country to leave them. Why supply folks couldn't
just order more from CONUS we never could figure. A lot cheaper than
losing birds and Marines getting them off hill. We would stage these
items at night, putting them in a hole where the NVA FOs couldn't see them,
and use a double length sling to give the bird as muck slack as possible.
During one such net removal mission in March, our HST troops were waving
air panels and popping smoke to bring the bird to a hover over a fake zone.
The pilot hovered there until we heard the "tube pop", then the bird was
repositioned over the hole where the nets were staged. Tough flying,
wind across the hill, pilot trying to hover "just so" for the hook-up while
watching 120s impact in the zone he'd just left and seeing AA tracers going
by. The Marine crouching on the load jumped up and slapped the sling-loop
in the hook, but the crew chief gave the "all clear" to the pilot an instant
too soon. The Marine tried to jump from the load toward the nearest
hole, but the load came up and his boot got tangled in the nets.
Off they went toward Khe Sanh with a long sling and a swaying bundle of
nets from which the young Marine dangled by one foot for the eight click
trip to the base. Your pilots didn't want to spend any more time
at Khe Sanh than they did at 881S so they would normally fly straight back
to Dong Ha, Quang Tri or Phu Bai as the mission might have called for.
We called the pilot to make sure he knew the Marine was hanging under him!
We were told that the young Marine was set down very gently at KSCB.
The Marine was OK, but he never came back to the hill. We didn't
blame him.

We
had a ceremony which began early February and continued as long as we occupied
Hill 881S. Three Marines would race from the bunker to a fifteen
foot radio antenna. Two of them would
raise
our nation's colors, then stand at attention while the third sounded
a rusty rendition of "To The Colors" with a battered bugle. We were
never without volunteers for this ceremony. They were proud of themselves
and our flag. At night this process was reversed as we retired the
colors. Often the retired flag was folded, packed and shipped to
the family of a Marine slain on the hill. We had a substantial stockpile
of flags sent to us by people all over the country. Even got a 'coffin'
flag from widow of a WW II KIA. She'd been given it when he was buried,
sent it to us with a note saying he'd have wanted flag to be useful again
instead of gathering dust on a closet shelf. For some reason this
daily ritual seemed to irritate the NVA in the vicinity of Hill 881N, and
they would usually shoot at us. Gave us more targets for our close
air support (CAS) and Super Gaggle prep. They never seemed to grasp
the principle that, with all the firepower we could bring to bear, it was
not a good idea to make us mad. But regulations specified that we
should fly the Republic of South Vietnam's flag anytime our flag was displayed.
I recall being gently admonished once for not doing this, so said I'd be
happy to fly the South Vietnamese flag anytime ours was hoisted if they
would provide a detachment of ARVN troops to raise it. Never heard
more on the subject.

Worst conflict with regulations
involved two KIAs. Round landed in hole - not much left. Had
no body bags, put remains in ponchos and staged in zone for next bird.
Weather went sour, couldn't get birds in. By second day, troops were
watching rats crawling around bodies. Hot up there in daytime with
obvious consequences for condition of bodies. Sent radio message
requesting permission to bury them 'till we could get them out. Reply,
negative - "Regs prohibit field burial in RVN." But I had a serious
morale and health problem. Sent second message explaining problems,
again requested permission to bury. Again, denied. (As I've
said before, people who write regulations have never been anyplace like
881S - regulations are written in air-conditioned offices.) By third
day, with weather still zero zero, I sent message down saying that unless
otherwise directed, I intended to bury KIAs that evening. Kept copy
of message so there would be a record for finding them later. Got
no reply. Buried them that night. Couple of days later, weather
lifted and first bird came up to get nets and slings. Had no medevacs,
because weather so bad NVA couldn't see to shoot either. Couldn't
justify risk of trying to land bird to pick up 'permanent routines.'
Disinterred them, put them in net and piled other nets/slings on top of
them to hide bodies. Had to do that because regulations also said
you could not transport remains externally. Bird - one of yours -
picked up load. We called as he lifted off and told him he had bodies
slung underneath. He rogered, said nothing more. Apparently
he said nothing when he delivered them at Dong Ha, either, 'cus we never
heard any more about it. I'd probably have been relieved over that
one if he hadn't kept his mouth shut.

Your Purple Fox people understood.
You gave us a lot of help in situations like the one above, simply by knowing
circumstances and caring about fellow Marines, and being willing to say
nothing and just get on with what needed to be done, and to hell with regulations.
Bit more subtle help than hot zone medevac, but equally important to our
survival. We depended on you guys for things like that, too, even
if we couldn't talk about them for 30 years. You never let us down.

One of your pilots took about
100 feet of triple concertina down with him one morning. A mortar
or rocket landed right under him him just as he dropped external load.
The bird lurched a bit and caught a wheel in our defensive wire.
Luckily, the ground was wet and the stakes pulled out easily. Probably
would have pulled the bird down otherwise. Quite a sight, what with
all that wire and a dozen or so trip flares burning merrily under the bird.
Looked like Christmas! We joked with your pilots afterward about
stealing our wire.

We
had three 105mm Howitzers on the hill. The gun in this photograph
took
a 120mm mortar hit. We couldn't keep the tires hard because of all
the shrapnel (good tires were critical for the 105s, because they are part
of the recoil system), so you'd bring spare wheels in from time to time.
On one of these sorties, either the pilot misjudged his altitude or an
AA round cut the sling. In either case, down came the wheel assemblies
from about 150 feet. They bounced damned near back up to the bird
when they hit, then went rolling and bounding down the hill, 1,500 feet
to the valley floor south of us. We often wondered what "Mr. Charles"
thought about the weird new weapon we were using to clear him off our slopes.

We also, on occasion, used the
105s in direct fire for targets of opportunity or for marking, but rarely,
because for two click shot, we had to use charge 7 - the max. Problem
was that if tires were flat, as they usually were, recoil mechanism was
not robust, and charge 7 could damage gun. Also, could only use 105s
safely for targets of opportunity if target was within deflection limits
of axis on which gun was oriented, because otherwise we'd have to break
out full gun crew to shift trails. That put too many men in one place
at one time, and invited 120 mortar. Gun crew work was tough job.
Lost some Marines.

It
took a full external load per day just to get us enough water to drink,
cook and clean wounds. Since Super Gaggle came on average of once
every three days - not because that's all we needed, but because weather
was so often zero zero - that meant at least 3 of 10 Super Gaggle birds
were dedicated exclusively to water. To be able to shave/wash up,
we'd have needed to double that to 6 birds. That was bad enough,
since it would cut down on chow/ammo deliveries. More important,
I was damned if we were going to ask for any more water than we absolutely
needed to survive - it would have been grossly unfair to the air crews
who took enough risks (and hits) as it was. I took some heat for
troops not shaving, not much, but no way was I going to ask the Purple
Foxes to take those risks so we could look pretty. For whom?
Not as if we had a date that night, and the Inspector General sure wasn't
coming! My XO, Lieutenant Richard Foley,
is proof we looked like a bunch of Vikings fresh off the North Sea, but
who cared? I damn sure didn't. Water was initially sent up
in 5-gallon 'jerry' cans, but they were big, tipsy, and didn't have very
good tops, so even if shrapnel didn't hole them they might turn over and
leak. Some times a load would be dropped hard and the cans would
burst open. In one case, CH-53 brought up full 250-gallon 'water
buffalo.' About ten minutes later, a 120mm mortar round landed near
it. We crouched in trench watching all that precious water run out
onto the ground. Finally someone down at Dong Ha came up with idea
of using 155mm powder canisters for water. They'd line them with
plastic bags, fill with water, and screwed top down tight. Canister
was strong, had heavy top, didn't matter if they fell over when dropped
in external load. Also, they only held a couple gallons, so a net
load would be lots of them. If round hit nearby, we'd lose a few,
but most would still be full when we went out after dark to clear zones
(Too dangerous to clear them in daytime). One of my PFCs suggested
we use empty canisters for excrement - fill 'em up, screw top down tight,
and pitch off hill. That way we didn't have to go through hassle
of getting diesel fuel up, burning excrement cans every day. Wasn't
long before another Marine suggested that last man to use 'commode' before
it was completely full be required to place a grenade, spoon down and pin
pulled, into canister on top of excrement, screw top down tight and pitch
off hill! Hill was steep, canister would bounce a good distance down.
Every once in a while, late at night,
we'd hear an explosion and screams from down below. Smell unpleasant,
but worth it. Troops would look at each other and say, "Yeah, gotcha,
you (unprintable)!" Curiosity kills!

A continuing problem was replacement Marines.
They'd usually have heard sea stories about 881S before they came up, but
were often "newbies" in country without a clue about the effects of a high
Air Metal Density Index. They'd come down the ramp and stand around
gawking like tourists, a sure way to ensure having to catch the next bird
out. We set up a gang of Marines, essentially in the role of
NFL linebackers, to tackle the replacements, and throw them into the nearest
trench as they came off ramp. A new battalion CO came up about 1
April, got tackled and thrown in trench like all the rest. Near end
of siege, I was near zone when bird came in with replacements, and became
part of the linebacker detail. One replacement slipped on ramp coming
out and got his leg hung up around ramp lift mechanism. Ramp was
always wet and slick, because bird had been up high to avoid AA, and had
gotten cold. As it came down, condensation would form on metal surfaces,
including ramp. I got him free, pushed him down ramp, but by the
time I'd done so, the bird had lifted too high for me to jump. I
went to crew chief, told him I was hill CO and needed to go back.
He didn't believe me and I don't blame him. I had no rank insignia
(not a good idea to wear around NVA), hadn't bathed or shaved in three
months, flack jacket was so worn plates were falling off and trousers were
so rotten my crotch was split and I was indecent. Pilots were busy
dodging AA, and Battalion CO was on hill, so I said, "To hell with it"
and let them drop me off at KSCB. First time I'd been on base since
before siege. God, that shower and shave felt good! Went back
up next day. Got a lot of good-natured grief about deserting my post.
Told them it was the Purple Foxes fault, not mine.

Our time spent on the hill always
seemed a bit surreal - as if we were TAD on another planet. The troops
coined a phrase of, "There are only two ways to get off this hill, either
fly off or get blown off." One incident, which almost resulted
in 'getting blown off', came one day with a request from KSCB to provide
a complete ammunition count for the hill immediately. Replied that
we had enough of everything, would let them know, as we had in the past,
when we needed more. Was told didn't matter, had to have complete
count immediately because White House wanted it! Of course, it was
daytime, wandering around hill counting ammunition in all the bunkers and
holes would have exposed a lot of men for nothing, so SWAGed it.
That made 'em happy, but KSCB apparently worried we'd get caught short,
started sending ammo up with every resupply whether we'd asked for it or
not. This soon became a big problem! Ammo bunkers were so full
we were stacking 105, 106 and 81 ammo in the open. Remember, India's
portion of the hill was only 50X100 meters, real risk that NVA round would
blow us all off 881S. Had a bitch of a time shutting it off!
There was a real disconnect between 881S and the world.

Other examples of the disconnect,
or being TAD on another planet. First, a lot of the news clippings
troops got in letters were not about Khe Sanh, but rather about war protesters
and assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy back
home. Not morale building. Second, nobody ever thought
to send up current issues of Stars and Stripes, so our only local
news in English (other than radio Hanoi) was Armed Forces Radio and Television
Service (AFRTS) station out of Saigon, which tended to cater to and have
news about rear area troops - not much about front lines. One evening,
after one of our bad days - incoming, casualties, messy medevac, and watching
a C-123 shot down at KSCB - I was walking trench lines to cheer up the
troops. I paused beside a Marine who had a transistor radio tuned
to AFRTS. The announcer broke into a Country & Western music
program with "Special Announcement." We expected maybe some word
about big victory, truce, something that would justify breaking into a
program popular with the troops. But no, announcement was to the
effect that, "Officer's tennis tournament scheduled for tomorrow at (someplace
in Saigon area) is rescheduled for (later date)." The Marine and
I exchanged glances in utter perplexity. He said, "Skipper, are we
and those f@%&*^# people in Saigon fighting the same war?" But
then, we often felt that way about folks in Washington, and at times, even
about folks down at Khe Sanh.

During what little free time
the Marines had, they thought of their situation on 881S, thought of home
and wondered if they would ever return to their loved ones. One PFC,
Earnest Webb, was so engaged on or about 3 February when he wrote a letter
to his pastor, Reverend Anderson. PFC Webb had seen the morale of
his fellow Marines waning and described a remedy to his pastor which he
named "Operation We Care." (Read his letter
by clicking here) PFC Webb's church, and other organizations
responded to "Operation We Care" which resulted in an abundance of 'We
Care' packages arriving at 881S. We not only received the items Webb
had requested in his letter, we also received gin and vodka in plastic
baby bottles in several packages. A note from one donor, a Korea
veteran, said he remembered what a little "joy juice" could mean to front-line
troops, and that he'd used plastic baby bottles because they wouldn't break
with rough handling. Also said he'd used inverted nipples so that
contents wouldn't gurgle when package was shaken, because he'd remembered
from Korea that in-country postal folks would sometimes take bottles out
of packages for their own use, said it was harder for them to find if contents
didn't gurgle! I recall one load of incoming mail, several day's
worth, where letters were riddled with shrapnel and soaked with whiskey
from a broken bottle in one of the 'We Care' packages. (Actually, chocolate
chip cookies soaked in bourbon weren't that bad. Got you past the
mold.) There was a deli in Wantaugh (Long Island), N. Y. that sent
us neat packages including whole salamis, other smoked meat and "joy juice."
Wasn't a problem, because with 250 to 400 men, even large packages had
only enough for about one sip per man. Morale did improve because
troops realized folks back home cared. Morale boosting events weren't
limited to actions from people back home. I recall a few events which
were initiated by the Purple Foxes. On one Super Gaggle resupply
the air crew managed to have several gallons of ice cream stashed in with
the ammunition and c-rations. Apparently the pilot was too busy dodging
AA upon delivery to advise us of this special commodity. As usual,
waited 'till dark to retrieve items from drop zones and found it was melted,
some containers had been punctured with shrapnel allowing contents to drip
down on remainder of load. Didn't get to enjoy the treat but appreciated
the thought. More than once we observed a crewman lean out a widow
to toss a bundle of magazines into the zone. Didn't care that they
were recycled, troops loved them, especially Playboy. They knew the
Purple Foxes also cared.

Another
problem was the rare air crew that wouldn't check in with us so as to give
us time to get troops under cover and set up for them. The air crew
in the Cpl. Smith tragedy was one of them (The
tempo was so hectic and decisions so critical that writing down tail #s
was not a high priority, so not sure what squadron the bird was from.
Didn't matter anyway at that point.) Other birds that didn't check
in were CH-53s coming up to lift out downed Purple Fox birds. Problem
was always that if we didn't know the bird was inbound, my troops would
not be under cover. Since we always got mortars when birds came in,
that could hurt. 120 mm mortar is a hummer with a round about the
size of a 4.2 round, had a super-quick fuse, would leave crater not much
larger than a plate, which meant shrapnel pattern was essentially horizontal.
This
photograph
was taken inside a new general purpose tent after one 120mm mortar
round landed near it. Gives some idea of volume and pattern of shrapnel.
Any
exposed Marines within 20 to 30 meters were sure casualties. We HAD
to get troops under cover before bringing in birds. Never did get
100% cooperation from wing on that one.

Infantry
units in combat usually have a forward air controller (FAC) attached to
control all air support for the unit. He is a Marine officer pilot
on temporary duty with the unit for a three month period. Our FAC
was hit and medevaced on the first or second day, and Corporal Robert J.
Arrotta, his radio operator, took over. By the time Battalion came
up with a replacement, Cpl. Arrotta had proved himself so good that I told
Battalion I didn't need a replacement. This
photograph
shows Cpl. Robert J. "The Mightiest Corporal in the World" Arrotta
(center), with Lance Corporal Patrick Cardenas to his right, controlling
air strikes from 881S. They were the team which spotted, determined
map coordinates and controlled aircraft for close air support (CAS) missions.
For what it's worth, all troops who've survived for any length of time
with a grunt unit in combat will pick up a radio call sign to avoid the
risk of the enemy getting their name. Cpl. Arrotta had the official
tactical call sign of "India 14" which identified him as the CAS representative
of the company. The troops, in recognition of the tremendous amount
of fire power he was capable of calling to bear on the NVA, referred to
him as "The Mightiest Corporal in the World." Corporal Arrotta
remained our FAC for the entire siege, directed about 300 CAS missions,
all Super Gaggles, and in coordination with the helicopter support team
(HST), all medevacs. Hell of a Marine! Got end-of-tour Bronze
Star. Deserved better. Did captain's job superbly under fire
for three months.

At the beginning of the siege,
General Westmoreland had initiated Operation NIAGARA which required that
any aircraft returning from a mission over North Vietnam with unexpended
ordnance and sufficient fuel (there were many because the weather was often
marginal during the monsoon season) must check in with the Khe Sanh Direct
Air Support Center (DASC) before pickling its ordnance. At 1,500
feet and surrounded by mountains, KSCB was in a hole and often foggy/misty.
Hill 881S, at 3,000 feet, often was not, and since it towered over most
of the surrounding terrain, we could control air strikes from the ground.
So when Khe Sanh was socked in or did not have a FAC(A) overhead, DASC
would pass the NIAGARA flights off to us. We got aircraft from all
services, with some strange ordnance from time to time, but we had plenty
of targets and could use most anything. We also had the capability
to mark those targets out to about 4km from the hill, using mortars with
WP rounds, the 106mm recoilless rifles, or the 105mm howitzers in the direct-fire
mode.

We recorded enemy activity daily
by grid coordinates, and on any day that the weather was clear, Corporal
Arrotta would register our mortars on those targets with WP an wait.
It was often not long before the DASC would pass a flight off to us.
Arrotta would determine the service and type of ordnance the flight carried,
fire the appropriate marking mortar, and run it in. On occasion we'd
get two and sometimes three flights of strike aircraft, and he would stack
them overhead in the order of their remaining fuel. Typically
targets would be trench lines, FO or AA positions, and rocket sites.
Some of these flights were not particularly accurate, largely because they
were not from squadrons that regularly did CAS missions, but with ordnance
like 2,000lb bridge-busting bombs, a near miss was good enough for most
targets. For targets of opportunity (those that developed as we were
bombing) we would use our direct-fire 105s or 106s. That didn't always
work, because Air Force pilots would pull up when they saw the marking
round impact in front of them, complaining that we were running them through
an artillery fan (trajectory). We'd explain that it was not artillery,
but direct-fire 106 recoilless rifle, and therefore posed no threat to
them. But they rarely knew what a 106RR was, would break off run
and fly away without dropping ordnance. Waste of good bombs.

We usually ran USAF and USN flights
on targets two or more kilometers from the hill. We'd learned the
hard way. Early on, we had an Air Force F-4 or F-101, not not sure
which, drop four 500lb high-drag bombs on us. There was some
smoke coming up from somewhere on our hill, don't remember what, maybe
a burning outhouse barrel, and he dropped on it. Thank God he missed
by about 50 meters! Point was he dropped without being "Cleared
Hot" from Cpl. Arrotta, who was in contact with him on the FAC radio frequency.
Troops were so mad I think they'd have shot him down if he'd come back.
He didn't. Had a couple of my Marines badly hurt when bunker roof
collapsed as a result of the bomb impacts. Sent a report down on
that one - even had the call sign - but never heard back. Unforgettable
experience. Cpl. Arrotta and I were standing together, someone shouted,
we looked over our shoulders, and there came the aircraft, low and fast,
bore-sighted on the hill. Just as we caught sight of him, four bombs
dropped from under his wings, and we dove for the bottom of the trench,
with Arrotta calling, "Abort! - Abort!" on the radio. Too late.
Dust, shrapnel, tree stumps flying all over the place, both of us - and
many others - were deaf for hours. Had he been accurate, we'd have
lost perhaps 100 Marines. Lost my cool instead. Damn, I was
angry.

Our target spotter was Lance
Corporal Molinau "Mike" Niuatoa, an American Samoan whom I'd chosen for
that duty because he'd fired a score of 241 (out of a perfect 250) with
the M-16 rifle in boot camp. With a name like his, which company
gunny could not pronounce, he too needed a nickname. He would ordinarily
have been called, in accordance with Marine Corps custom, "Pineapple."
But he had a cousin, also from Samoa and also with a difficult name, in
the company, so "Pineapple" was confusing. Niuatoa was huge, looked
like a giant Attila the Hun with his beard. His cousin was small.
Troops quickly solved call sign problem by calling Niuatoa "Chunk" and
his cousin "Tidbit." Anyway, I figured he was bound to have superb
eyesight. He had the patience of Job, and was absolutely unflappable,
no matter what the Air Metal Density Index. He had a set of 20-power
naval binoculars on a pipe stand with which he found targets for Cpl. Arrotta.
On one occasion, after two weeks of watching whenever the weather was clear
enough, he spotted the muzzle flashes of NVA 130mm guns way out west, probably
in Laos. We knew what they were, because we were on the gun-traget
line between them and KSCB and could hear the rushhhhh of rounds going
over us on the way to the base. Sounded like squirrels running through
dry leaves. Guns had range of 27,000 meters, were perhaps 12 - 15
kilometers west of us. We had no weapon that could mark a target
that far out, so called for a FAC(A), put Chunk on radio net with him.
FAC(A) used bombs from CAS birds as adjusting rounds. Never forget
Chunk's first adjustment from bomb drop, "Left a click (kilometer), add
two ridge lines!" Over next hour, using several flights of CAS birds
and Chunk's adjustments, FAC(A) reported destruction of four guns.
Chunk earned Bronze Star for that. He
retired a couple of years ago as Wing Sergeant Major, 3rd MAW. What
a Marine.

Before & After

Hill 881North on 21 January

Hill 881North on 15 March

The left image above shows the view north from 881S
on 21 January. Looks like view from
a nice home in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The hill near the skyline,
about 2km away, is 881N. The right image is same view about 15
March. Looks like back side of the moon. Difference is
effect of Arrotta's air strikes and Super Gaggle prep fires. 881N
always had targets, often AA sites for firing at Purple Fox birds.
NVA also used it to fire 122mm Katushka rockets at Khe Sanh, sometimes
four or five sites at once, 30-50 rockets per site. Effect devastating
down at base, but we could see rockets lifting off, would give base about
10 seconds warning before impact. Base troops would take cover when
siren (actually, truck horn they'd rigged up) sounded. Tried to get
881N targeted with B-52 strikes, since NVA presence there was constant,
but never did. Two reasons; one, that B-52s were not normally targeted
closer than 3 clicks from friendly troops; and two, that most B-52 targeting
was done with unattended ground sensors by S-2 (intelligence) section at
KSCB, and there were no sensors deployed around 881N. Another
problem was there were good trails/roads leading from north side westward
to Laos and the Ho Chi Minh trail, which was about 20 clicks west, so whatever
we blew away, they could soon replace, and usually did. Frequent
zero-zero weather made overland supply easy for them. We kept reporting
activity on 881N, but perhaps battalion, to which we reported, was not
passing word up the line. Don't know. But then, no one ever
came up to see what we and the Purple Foxes were seeing most every day.
Shame, because a few strikes could have saved us all, 881S and your air
crews, numerous casualties as well as battle damage to your CH-46s.
Further, it would have saved KSCB from some rocket attacks.

It took NVA about two days to set up for rocket firing.
They'd set up at night, fire them in morning when air activity began down
at KSCB and runway got busy. I remember one day when we figured they
were ready to fire, base was still fogged in so they were holding off.
Arrotta had some Marine CAS birds overhead. We decided to hit the
site (they used same ones repeatedly) before they fired, set up mortar
without registration to mark, timed first marking shot and CAS bird's orbit
so that round would impact on site just as bird came 'wings level'.
Mortarmen on hill were plenty good enough by then for that kind of mission.
Pilots would normally make first run without dropping ordnance to be sure
they had the target. In this case, we told pilot we'd clear him hot
on first run, because we knew that once NVA realized site was targeted,
they'd fire off rockets - a "use 'em or lose 'em" situation for them.
Pilot didn't listen, marking round landed on site, we cleared him hot,
he didn't drop. Habit, I guess. Wingman came in about 30 seconds
behind him, and just as he came 'wings level' and we cleared him hot, NVA
fired about 50 rockets from site. Aircraft (A-4) was bracketed, damn
near got hit by outgoing 122mm rockets. Pilot went bananas, he and
other birds hit site repeatedly 'till all ordnance expended. We kept
telling them it was too late, waste of ordnance, rockets already gone.
Cpl. Arrotta suggested (politely) to flight leader that he'd have gotten
rockets if he'd dropped on first run, and to please do it next time the
way we told him to. But we controlled perhaps 300 CAS strikes from
hill during siege, so an occasional error was inevitable.

This
photo
of YK-16, known as 'Patches', is an example of one Purple Fox bird
that suffered mortar damage during medevac, departed zone but was forced
to land in Indian country, then retrieved later. During the seventy-seven
day siege we never called for a 'routine' medical evacuation. For
us to subject the CH-46 crews to unnecessary exposure was not an option.
In fact, many of our 'priority' medevacs waited for the last bird of a
scheduled Super Gaggle to be evacuated rather than call for a dedicated
medevac package. Emergencies of course were called immediately.
In fact, if a priority medevac could carry one end of a stretcher, he would.
We got more out that way, while still keeping number of troops exposed
in the zone to a minimum. These were often Marines with deep flesh
wounds that required stitching or who'd been peppered with shrapnel that
had to be dug out so the wounds wouldn't get infected. I remember
one stretcher bearer was a man who'd had his pinkie blown off. He
wasn't an 'emergency' and he could carry one end of a stretcher, albeit
painfully, but we still needed to get him down to a doctor to get the stump
healed. We had no water to keep clean with, so any wound eventually
got infected. It was a 'pay me now or pay me later' situation.
Better to send them down as soon as they got hit. Besides, the regulations
in those days said that if you hadn't been treated by a doctor, you didn't
rate a Purple Heart, and I was damned if I was going to let those Marines
be cheated out of a Purple Heart just because they happened to be serving
on that Godawful hill. Tried to get authority to have my senior corpsman
certify wounds that rated the medal, but no go. You know how regs
are. Some Marines who were lightly wounded simply refused evacuation,
figuring the medal wasn't worth the risk of the trip down and back.
Unfair to them, but the people who write regs have never been any place
like 881S. Even had a couple who refused evacuation for light wounds
because it would have been their third Purple Heart, which meant they got
sent out of country. They didn't want to leave! Sense of duty.
I wish I could convey to the young Marines today, and to our fellow countrymen,
how magnificent those men really were.

In addition to Purple Hearts
not given to all who deserved them, many from those days were not recognized
for superb and often heroic performance, both grunts and aviators.
Keep in mind, though, that any kind of unit administration was way
down on the list of priorities, what with tempo of operations, lack of
administrative capability (26th Marines admin. rear was back on Okinawa
and Battalion admin. rears were at Phu Bai which might as well have been
on the back side of the moon), and the fact that all forward echelons,
from platoon to regiment, were subject to same constant and devastating
incoming. These were BIG rounds - 120 mm mortars, 122 mm rockets,
130 mm guns, 152 mm howitzers, and staying alive and alert was always the
top priority. All this was during height of the Tet Offensive,
when all Vietnam was at 'General Quarters.' Also, when we did send
paperwork down from hill, it was usually using a lightly wounded courier,
and we had no guarantee he'd not get hit again in bird on way down, or
that bird would even stop at KSCB. If bird had an emergency medevac
aboard, it would often bypass base and go straight to Delta Med. at Dong
Ha or out to USS Repose offshore. Paperwork would have to wend its
way back through system, often didn't make it. Situation made getting
anything back to either rear at base or to Wing (including the Purple Foxes)
iffy at best, and since we rarely got feedback from rear, we never knew
whether we'd succeeded or not. To give you a feel for the problem,
outgoing mail went out on medevac birds since they were virtually the only
ones that landed on Hill 881S. We'd hand it to crew chief or a gunner
in a sandbag. But they were busy. We once got a whole load
of mail sent back up to the Hill 881S by the post office folks - they refused
to forward it because it had gotten bloody rolling around on floor of bird
with wounded. Hell of a note. Two of these letters home were
from Marines who'd been KIA in the interim. Nothing was simple!

These
memories were supposed to be about the Purple Foxes and the support you
gave my Marines on Hill 881S. However, at the insistence of your
squadron historian/webmaster, I provided this photograph.
The Marine on the right is SSgt. Karl G. Taylor, Sr., 1st Platoon Sergeant,
who won a Medal of Honor
later that year during Operation MEAD RIVER. I'm the big guy on the
left (6' 4-1/2", 205 lbs. "fighting" weight). We're both filthy and
obviously unshaven for reasons previously explained. I didn't wear
the cammie cover on my helmet. Needed some way for the troops to
ID me when things got exciting. Figured that if I needed camouflage
on my helmet, we were all in deep kimchi. Weighed 155 lbs. when we
got back to Quang Tri at end of April. We were all a bit scrawny,
couldn't have passed the PFT if our lives depended on it (Didn't exist
then, anyway), but we could hit the deck and roll faster than any other
Marines still alive.

Hope I've given the Purple Foxes of HMM-364 some feel
for Marines they were supporting and the unique problems we, and you,
had to deal with. These are old memories, but with the help of notes
and old letters home and recollections of a few other Marines who were
on the hill, I think they're fairly accurate. Wish I could be more
specific as to tail #s and dates, but as I said before, we were too damned
busy to worry much about that then - ducking rounds, running CAS and working
your birds in daytime; pulling in loads, improving defenses and standing
100% watch from midnight 'till dawn 'cuz that's when NVA was likely to
attack. Troops did most of their sleeping in daytime. Not only
kept them under cover, but saved water and thus birds, since they weren't
working in the heat of the day.

'Nuff said for now. But, for
the Marines of India and Mike companies, the word "magnificent" is inadequate
to describe the Purple Foxes. I can't imagine the Marine Corps ever
again having a better collection of gutsy air crews (goes for the fixed-wing
folks also) and tough birds than we had to work with on Hill 881S during
the Siege of Khe Sanh. You deserve your glorious history. God
knows you made it!

India Six Actual, Out.

Epilogue

It is gratifying to know that Bill Dabney remembers
the Purple Foxes. The courage and determination of his Marines on 881S
was a true inspiration to those of us who flew the Super Gaggle. We understood
that we were their lifeline and that we could not fail them. They faced
incredible hardship and peril 24 hours a day and it was our duty to give
them the benefit of our very best effort. I think we did.